Hens and peckers and peckers and hens
The depth of this humor could give one the bends.
Where is the Rooster mid all this mad pecking?
Not worried his hens may be frantically wrecking
their laying potential and hearty demeanor
for the sake of an overused black and blue wiener?


------------------
zz

Now that was darned near musical. Hmmmm.....


And now a weiner, black and blue
Perhaps I'll serve up my scents, too.
One more quick course of hens and peckers,
pullets, foxes, roosters, wreckers,
butterbeans, carrots, quince, and soup.
(all choice and entertaining)
I offer up this cour'se for the purpose of refraining!


(uh, sorry)

I’m full of refraining and craving dessert,
I’m wondering what kinds of sweets to pervert…
Could we start with some cherries, or berries that squirt,
and top them with whipped creams that dribble and spurt?

I’ll do almost anything not to revert
to onions and pullets, no matter how pert!
Could we cleanse our sourpusses and try to avert
those wreckers and chic-hens? Let’s sound the alert:

Our sweet tooth’s triumphant! The stews must convert!


------------------
zz

[This message has been edited by zbaby (edited December 02, 2002).]

Though I've not heard of whipped creams that spurted or dribbled
nor berries that squirted (unless they were nibbled)
I'll hold from objecting, for sake of the ribald,
and not be the one with your verse to have quibbled.

Regarding the sweet tooth; I'm sorry to say
I've no interest in cherries or berries that spray.
The dilemma I have is progressing decay
of my few dental structures - I'd like them to stay!

what is this life, so full of care
to have no teeth to chew the fare
without those teeth to grind and chew
you'd have to end up slurping stew

No teeth to grind, all food by spoon,
streams full of stew I'll live on soon.

A poor mouth this if, void of teeth,
I have but gums both 'bove and 'neath.


(Ouch. I think I pulled a muscle reaching for that one...)

And what is care? So full of life
that it’s not fair, to roll the dice
and grind those teeth on silver spoon;
you’ll end up on the stream you’re strewn.

(Call 911…)


------------------
zz

How tragic! After all this talk of onion, quince, and fowls,
That stir the heart, and activate the bowels,
That I should stumble on this scene, to lay this wreath:
Your verse has lost its teeth.

Let nobody hang a wreath.
Let no bells be rung.
Though my verse has lost its teeth
it still has gums and tongue.

No teeth, but gums and tongue?
Well, bully for you, Slater,
Feast you may, on un-ee-yun--
just run it through a grater.